Final fantasy Tactics: The return of the true hero
by Heaven's gates
Summary: Right after the ending of the Final fantasy tactics. Ending is altered. Feel free to read and review.


Prologue

"The body is but a vessel for the soul, a puppet which bends to the soul's tyranny. And lo, the body is not eternal, for it feeds on the flesh of others, lest it return to the dust from whence it came. Therefore must the soul, decieve, despise, and murder men."

The evening winds howled, the rain beating mercillesly on the drenched earth. Thunder roared, literally shaking the land, like a misbegotten child crying out its woes. Lightning flashed, illuminating the skies second after second with not even a brief moment of peace. As a whole, it was heartrending, no it was more than that. It felt as if the whole world was weeping, using the elements to portray its sorrow and pain. One would think that there isn't a soul alive that would want to be anywhere near this chaos, but there was. Indeed there was. For standing in the midst of it all, was a man.

The man was running. He was battling against the terrible squall, scampering away as if death was on his heels. Every now and then, he would turn around to look back briefly, and then continue on his way. Clasped in his arms were a bunch of tattered old papers, the wind tugging at them at every moment. But still, he protected them and shielded them, like a mother would to her child. He didn't tarry even for a moment, he only carried on, difficult as it may be. Breathing heavily, the man didn't stop, though the seconds felt like minutes, the minutes hours, the hours days, and the days...years. After what seemed to be a millenium of running, the man stopped and leaned on the trunk of an old oak tree, literally gasping for air. He coughed terribly, coughing like he was fit to die.

He was sick. But really who wouldn't be, when the land at the moment is like a living hell? Once more he looked back, but this time he heard something. Amidst all that chaos, he heard the clacking sound of hooves against the the flooded earth. His face of mask of terror, he wasted no time and hurried on with his precious documents, completely disregarding his body's current state. He finally stopped once more as his eyes caught sight of a rickety old bridge, used to cross an enormous waterfall. The wooden boards of the bridge looked very frail and the wind was swaying terribly, but it did not stop the man. No...not by any means. He charged through the bridge as if completely ignorant of the risks and consequences. He mangaged to get half way through, however a board failed him and cracked into two pieces.

His two feet slipped beneat him as the board broke completely. Reaching out his hand, in a small fraction of a second, he managed to grab hold of the next board and save himself. Suspended, one hand gripping the bridge, and another on his documents, his situation was indeed dire. At this point, it would be wise to let go of the documents and spare yourself from certain death, but it did not occur to be wise for the man. He held on tightly, with not a single hint of desire of letting his precious documents be destroyed. Using his head, he made sure to keep a firm grip on the bridge as he tucked the papers tightly on his belt. He tightened it and secured it well, and then and only then did he use his now free hand to clamor out of certain death. How he was able to do this with one hand, no one knows, but he did. Taking a moment to breathe, he looked back again, and heard what he heard what he heard last time. Only this time, it was louder, and now voices could be heard in the distance. His face once again a mask of terror, he crossed the remainder of the bridge and came upon an astronomical amount of rocks at the side of the waterfall. Looking around, he saw the largest rock and came to lean upon it. He was very weak and weary, yet he still tried his best to push himself off the rock and continue on this arduous task, but it was impossible. In a failed attempt, he collapsed on the ground.

Frantic, the man struggled to get up bu all in vain. He could barely lift his face from the flooded earth. Looking upon his situation, his memory spole to him, in silent whispering echoes, reminding him of times long forgotten. Af first there were happy times, the times of great joy and contentment. And then echoed his bittersweet childhood times, resonating along with the old days of bliss before the war. But still...among those pleasant memories that echoed at the back of his mind, something stirred...scarcely audible yet...but soon it stirred his heart as he remembered what it was. Yes...justice, the thought of justice...resulting to a promise made to be fulfilled but on the verge of breaking. Finally, the thought of justice and his mission crossed his mind. Awakening back to reality, he heard echoes or real footsteps. He realized what it meant, and knowing that, he knew that something must be done.

_"The footsteps were incessant, and the hurry of them became more rapid amd more rapid. The ground echoed and reechoed with the the thread of feet, some near, some distant, but stopping altogether to look for a man greatly pursued. "_

Time was short, shorter than ever before and the man knew it. Reaching into the pocket of his kaiser jacket, the man pulled out something wrapped in an elven mantle and smiled at it regretfully. An extremely sorrowful smile. Carefully he unwrapped it and gazed at it with deep pain in his eyes. Speaking in a hushed voice, the man spoke with grief.

"This can't be the end...I hope it isn't...but I can't deny it. I'm going to lose...but I can't! I don't...I don't want to lose! I told you...that I would make it so the world would never forget your name...I promised on your grave. Beoulve...a name no one will be able to erase, not even god...that is what I told you. A miracle...I need a miracle...to fulfill that promise in those words."

Suddenly the man heard something. What it was, no one knows. Well no one but the man...for he spoke once more, this time as if speaking with someone, though there was no one there.

"It can't be...you can...speak?! Is this...your secret...?"

No response was heard...only the rain and skies made an audible sound. However the man kept on speaking, conversing with an unseen entity that never answered.

"Help me...please...I'm begging you. Grant my first and last selfish wish."

Once again...no response.

"You want my...for exchange?"

No anwer.

"Very well...I understand."

The man smiled once more, but it did not hold sorrow like before. A very serene smile was what he had onhis face. As he felt himself drifting away he tossed the object he was holding in the waterfall, and said-

"My name...ends here...but yours will last forever...yes...forever..."


End file.
